"I fear I shall never see you again."

"Do not say such a thing Amarië! We will return once we have settled the lands Fëanor has spoken of," Orithil folded the last of her gowns before shutting her valise. Her sister's words fed the growing fears and concern Orithil had spent the past month trying to abate. If any more was said, Orithil feared that she would be unable to leave.

Aegnor would be here soon to retrieve her. She would not renege on her vow to him.

"Father forbade us to follow Fëanor into exile. You heard him Orithil."

Orithil kneeled before Amarië who sat upon the bed they had shared as children. Her sister's eyes were filled with unshed tears and her lip quivered as she gazed down on Orithil. Orithil stroked her sister's rosy cheek and shushed her like a mother coddling a babe."I know Father forbade us, but I swore to Aegnor that I would go with him into exile. I did not tell you this, for fear you would tell Father…Aegnor and I exchanged promises. We are engaged!"

To emphasize her point, Orithil revealed her right index finger decorated by a band of delicate silver. The silver ring resembled a twisted tree branch of the laurinquë tree and in the center of the tree branch was a golden flower like those that bloomed on the laurinquë in the spring. At the sight of the ring, Amarië fought back a sob and covered her mouth. She stood and crossed to the window shaking her head, "Oh little sister, I cannot believe you were foolish enough to do such a thing. You do not have our parents' blessing. It is not a real engagement without their blessings."

Even though the accusation stung Orithil's pride, she kept her voice hushed as to not wake her parents who slept below, "It is a real engagement. Aegnor and I said the words and exchanged rings. What more is there to it than that? He says we are to be married once we have a settlement of our own. You may be older than I, Amarië, but at least I am not too scared to follow Aegnor into exile. Unlike you, I will not sit idly by like a terrified little elfling and do nothing while my love risks his life for our future."

Her words were sharp and cutting. Amarië had broken with Finrod last week. He would leave for exile and she would remain here in Valinor. Orithil knew Amarië's heart was still broken. She regretted her words as soon as they left her mouth. Amarië's shoulders became rigid and her hands clenched the windowsill. Before Orithil could apologize, she flinched as her sister whipped around to face her. Her sister's figure was illuminated by the moonlight from the window, and her voice was a cutting whisper, "You may think me just a frightened little elfling, but you are wrong, dear sister. I have foretold the deaths of the brothers of Finarfin. All of them shall perish under the wrath of Morgoth and their souls shall wander the Halls of Mandos until the Valar deems them worthy of rebirth. I will not choose to watch Finrod die and be separated from him, alone and without family, in this new Middle Earth. I will wait the eons it takes until he is once more on the shores of Valinor and free to be with me for the rest of time."

Like a foul taste, Amarië spit out, "What you see as fear, little sister, I see as courage to allow the one I love to go and fulfill his destiny."

Silence fell upon the room as the sisters stood facing one another while Amarië's words hung in the air between them. Orithil heard a high-pitched ringing in her ears, and the ground beneath her became unsteady. She clenched her eyes shut and tried to steel her resolve; fainting would be an embarrassing thing to do right now. Her sister's gift of foresight had never been wrong before. Why had Amarië not said something before this? Orithil regretted keeping her engagement a secret from her sister. She wondered if Amarië felt sorry for not divulging her premonition sooner. Before now, they had told each other everything. When had their relationship devolved into lies and half-truths?

The sound of muffled footsteps outside the window caught the acute attention of both sisters. No doubt, it was Aegnor arriving to take her to meet the others. Orithil glanced down at the valise in her hands and wondered, for the first time since she had agreed to this idea, if she was making the right decision.

"I must go," she mumbled, the words empty and hollow. The conviction Orithil once possessed was gone, but she had to meet Aegnor. He would be expecting her. Orithil could not disappoint him.

She turned to leave, but felt a hand grasp her wrist. Amarië's pale eyes bore into her own, their faces inches apart. Orithil tried to wipe away tears that had begun to fall, but her free hand held her valise. Abruptly, she was pulled into a hug. Her valise dropping to the stone floor. Orithil relished the feeling of her elder sister's arms around her. It was if her burdens were momentarily lifted. Relieved, Orithil began to cry.

Now, it was Amarie who comforted her, "I am sorry Orithil, I should not have said such things to you. I know that you are determined to follow Aegnor, and I needed to be understanding of that. Please do not cry. I am told that my premonitions are not unalterable, so there may be hope…"

Her words died out and Orithil knew her sister was only attempting to protect her from further pain. The pair remained embraced for a moment more before they broke apart. Orithil brusquely wiped away her tears feeling suddenly ridiculous. She shook her head, embarrassed, "It is I who need to be forgiven. I spoke harshly. I know that you love Finrod, and I promise that I shall do all that I can to protect him from harm. By the Valar, I hope your vision is wrong."

A comforting smile crossed Amarie's face and she kissed Orithil's cheek.

With a final parting glance at her sister, Orithil grabbed her valise and made her way through her family home. She glanced over the furniture and belongings she would likely not see for many centuries; maybe never again. Time in Valinor passed without thought. Would it do the same in this Middle Earth?

Orithil descended the stairway and came to stand before her parents' bedroom. She watched her parents sleeping peacefully in their bed. Their golden hair glowing in the light that shone from the window. Her father had rallied against Fëanor; disavowing his preaching. He wanted to protect his daughters from harm, but Orithil was old enough to make her own choices. From her pocket, Orithil pulled out a scroll and set it upon a table by the doorway. It held an explanation that she hoped comforted her parents in some small way when they discovered her disappearance.

With a silent prayer for forgiveness, Orithil turned and left them to their slumber.

The night air was warm. Her family's home overlooked the sea and the salt breeze clung to her skin. Orithil loved the sea. The sound of the gulls' cry was like a childhood lullaby. This was likely her last night in Valinor for some time. The idea pierced her heart like a knife. Orithil made her way around her home; peering into the dark to find Aegnor. A hooded figure appeared from the shadows and pulled down its hood. There stood her lover, his blazing eyes upon her. Orithil rushed to him, throwing herself into his arms. Aegnor's arms instinctively wrapped around her waist, and he swung her in the air twirling her like she was not but a feather. In his arms, Orithil found her conviction once more. She was renewed.

Gently, Aegnor set her down. She watched his gloved hand trace her cheek; felt the soft leather against her face. While his fingers remained splayed on her cheek, his thumb came to rest upon her lower lip and he dragged it across the soft skin. He bent his head. Orithil felt her stomach flutter as she met his lips. His kiss was fire itself and she would gladly be consumed by it. A promise of more lingered beneath the surface and it made Orithil ache.

"Come, mime mel, we must join the others, or else we shall be left behind," Aegnor murmured as he pulled away. He took hold of her valise with one hand while the other intertwined with her own. He pulled her away down the path that led to the center of town. Any seed of anxiety that had been planted by Amarië's words was overpowered by the sense of overwhelming joy she felt beside her love. Even if they both perished, Orithil would spend her days by Aegnor's side until that fateful moment.

Author's Note: Mime mel = "my love" in Quenya

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